


Worth

by myriddin



Series: Consent [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Disapproving Family, F/M, Foreplay, Implied Sexual Content, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Sansa and Jon receive lessons in self-confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed because it’s nearly 3 in the morning and I just want to get this out. Will edit in the (later) morning.

 “…completely unacceptable…”

“…has no sense…turned down a full ride to university to live hand to mouth…”

“…should be like brother and sister…practically raised together…you think of him like a son, Ned!”

It didn’t surprise Sansa to hear her mother’s raised voice coming from her father’s study, but what took her aback was the moment she rounded the corner and found her boyfriend slumped against the wall, his head in his hands. The same boyfriend she had come looking for after he had taken too long to return from the bathroom, the same boyfriend that had found himself in a place well within hearing distance of every disparaging remark Catelyn Tully Stark made toward him and their relationship.

_Oh, Jon.  
_

She at first wanted to cry, feeling her throat tighten and tears prick the corners of her eyes in preparation, but instead an anger, the likes of which she had only felt once or twice before in her life, swept over her until it overwhelmed her every sense.

Anger so strong that for the first time in her life, Sansa Stark didn’t think before she acted. For once, she didn’t think about her mother’s approval, her father’s expectations, protecting her younger siblings’ sensibilities. There was only Jon- his smile, his laugh, his kiss- how much she treasured each one and how much she wanted to protect their existence.

She didn’t remember many details of the blistering lecture she delivered after storming into the study, though the aftermath was clearer, as she learned it was about time she stopped underestimating her little brothers and sister.

Bran met her and a silent Jon at the base of the stairs to hand them their coats, informing them that Arya was waiting outside to meet the cab they had called for the couple, his eyes soft and understanding as he accompanied them to the door. The tap of Bran’s cane against the hardwood was suddenly drowned out by a cacophony of sound coming from the den, explosions and gunfire coming from a telly turned up louder than necessary.

“Nothing distracts Ric better than Star Wars,” Bran explained at his sister’s quizzical look, one that quickly turned to relief as she realized ten-year-old Rickon had been spared the raised voices.

Outside, they stood together in silence- her, Jon, Bran, and Arya, until the cab pulled up and solemn farewells were exchanged. Sansa found herself feeling wistful when Bran leaned in to kiss her cheek and she noticed the brush of the baby fine hair growing in on his lip and chin, when she glanced over and realized Arya was tall enough to look Jon in the eye. They weren’t children anymore; when had they grown up so much?

Arya took her by surprise one last time by pulling her into a hug after Jon, mumbling softly, “Text us if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Arya.”

xx

It was with unspoken agreement that they made their way to Sansa’s flat, the tense, pregnant silence between them clearly ready to reach its breaking point when the door clicked shut behind them and Sansa turned away to lock it.

Jon was the first to break the standoff. “Why did you do it, Sansa?”

She tensed, hand stilling on the chain-lock. Oh, if this turned out to be about his wounded male pride…

He heaved a heavy sigh, a pair of soft thumps accompanying him taking off his boots. “I’m not worth it, San. Not for getting into rows with your mum and da.”

She gave a sigh of her own, slowly turning to face him. “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that about yourself.”

It made her incredibly sad that the look he gave her in response was so confused and befuddled, making it painfully clear Jon didn’t have an iota of understanding over why she was upset. Sansa kicked off her own shoes, stepping closer until she could link her arms around his neck and look him in the eye.

“I really wish you wouldn’t put yourself down, Jon, because all I see is the good, honest man I care so much about. You’re more than worth it to me, Jon Snow, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

The kiss that followed was soft, gentle as a whisper, but still Jon felt as if his world was coming to a standstill, the very core of his being rocked from the extremity of feeling that overtook him with that one kiss. _Sweet girl, lovely girl, precious, precious darling_. Whatever had he done to deserve her attention and affection? He may never know just what worth Sansa Stark saw in him, but he was thankful nonetheless. So very, very grateful.

His body trembled as she slid her hands to his shoulders, her touch invoking a heat that seemed to burn through the fabric of his shirt, branding into his skin and searing through to his very soul. The same feeling pushed at her as their lips collided again in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hand rose to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as they parted and their eyes met, an unspoken agreement passing between them as they came back together again, and again, desperate to maintain the contact.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his breath heavy and his heart thundering as he kept his eyes locked on hers, searching for any signs of hesitation as he slipped her jacket off her shoulders. Sansa kissed him again, deep and hungry, tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape as Jon eagerly freed himself from the confines of his own coat.

As they parted again for breath, he slowly backed her toward the bed, the question in his eyes receiving a confident nod in reply, seating herself on the edge of the mattress, pulling her shirt over her head to reveal the vest-top underneath.

Jon cupped her face, reading the expression of longing desire that crossed her beautiful face. He didn’t hesitate any longer, bringing his mouth back to hers as the weight of his body pressed her back against the bed.

Her hands glided up his back to feel the ripple of lean muscles beneath the cotton of his shirt, delighting in the delicious warmth pooling beneath the fabric. His hands traced the curves of her body in return, fingers brushing over hips and thighs as he took in the feel of her.

He took his explorations lower, his senses drinking her in as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck, her collarbone, his nose brushing against the swell of her breasts. He rucked up her vest to reveal the soft, creamy skin of her stomach, bending his head to feather teasing kisses around her navel.

He reared upward, shedding his shirt and he felt a flash of masculine pride as her eyes danced over him with quiet appreciation and he lowered himself to her again. They shared secret smiles as her arms slipped around his neck to draw his mouth back to hers.

As they parted once more, wonderfully breathless, they could not help the shy, delighted smiles that broke out over their faces, and they shared again and again the same quick, light kisses before he trailed his lips to her neck. Her eyes fluttered close, lips parting in breathless pleasure and he smiled against her skin, angling his head around so not to let the necklace around his neck catch in her long hair.

Through hooded eyes, she glanced at the sterling silver pendent resting around his neck. St. Jude Thaddeus, patron saint of lost causes. _Oh, Jon_.

Sweet man, wonderful man. How could she ever show him just how much she valued him? She remembered a warning she had received from her friend Mya once, about the dangers of trying to fix a broken man.

She’d made that mistake before, when she thought she could help fix whatever had broken inside Joffrey. The difference this time, was that Jon wasn’t broken. He was damaged, and he was deprived. Jon Snow was hungry for so many things: love, family, belonging, acceptance. All of them she was happy to help him realize.

“My turn,” she teased with a mischievous curve to her lips, flipping them over without a hint of resistance, Jon eagerly giving himself over to her attentions.

His heart beating a thundering tattoo against his breastbone, Jon panted harshly as Sansa licked a long stripe from his clavicle to his pectorals, his hips giving an involuntary buck as she closed her lips around his nipple.

She rode his movement with an instinctive roll of her hips, the new angle changing an innocent straddle of his waist to something profoundly more intimate, and the breathy little moan she let out had to be the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

Reading the curiosity and interest in her eyes, he slid his hands down to her hips, moving her against him in a slow, gentle grind. As she found her own rhythm, more of those incredible noises fell from her lips, and it was all Jon could do not to lose himself as molten heat pooled in his belly and his sex thickened and swelled beneath her.

She braced her hands against his chest, sensation sparking straight from her center, racheting up her spine. “Jon,” she breathed, fingers curling into the crisp hair dusting his pectorals, “Stay here with me tonight.”

He caught her hips to slow her rocking, looking up at her with clear, serious eyes, despite how dilated their pupils had become. “Of course I will. But are you sure-”

“I’m still not ready for everything, but I’d like to explore a little more. If that’s alright?”

Holding his eyes, she reached down for the zipper and snap to his trousers, slipping her hand underneath. A moment later, a loud, guttural groan escaped Jon, as his head fell back against the pillow.

“Explore away, love!”


End file.
